Jade Regent
by Gastogh
Summary: Contains: scenes to support a character background. Will contain eventually: scenes from Paizo's 'Jade Regent' adventure path.


**A/N:** The scenes in this chapter that have to do with making plans for the caravan are non-canon. It was declared that none of the NPCs have any plans for leaving prior to the onset of the campaign. I'm leaving them here anyway. The non-canon elements are also marked by lack of bolding of the date at the beginning of the scene.**  
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><p><strong>3 Desnus, 4698 AR, Sandpoint<strong>

She ran as fast as she dared over the slick rocks. She was heading for the cliffs to the north of town, which were full of little cracks and coves. There was a modest stretch of sandy beach leading to the waterline and the rocks, which allowed the seeker to check quickly whether someone had gone there. If they had, it was only a matter of time before they were found – even a good climber couldn't make it back to the village by climbing the cliffs unless they were willing to swim along the shore for at least half a mile, and the water was still too cold for that. Any decently smart smart kid disdained the little hidey-holes, and for good reason. It was simply a place to get stuck and delay discovery.

Kylina, however, had more tricks up her sleeve, and ever since she'd thought of her latest one, she'd been dying to try one out.

She was crammed uncomfortably into a small nook in the cliff face. In and of itself the crack was no kind of hideaway at all – should Vankor simply walk this far, he would see her crouched there immediately. The whole idea, of course, was that he wouldn't come that far. Though tight, the crevice went deep; deep enough to connect with the adjacent cavern, which was large enough to hide in properly. Not long ago she had accidentally discovered an interesting feature of the cave's: one could speak into the crevice from where she was and the sound would seem to come from the other cave to a listener standing near its mouth. With a bit of luck, she thought she might be able to make it seem like it was coming from somewhere deep.

She had to wait a while, but eventually she heard Vankor coming. It would have been impossible to hear him over the crash of the waves if he hadn't been yelling. Belatedly, she wondered what she would have done if he had tried to sneak in. _Well, too late now and it worked out fine._

"Nice going, Libs!" she heard him shouting. "Why _not_ waste both our times in some dank place you're gonna be found out anyhow?"

That she could hear his voice at all had to mean that he was somewhere around the right place already. Kylina spoke into the crack in the rock, _projecting_ and _changing_ her voice subtly to add to the effect.

"Maybe I've found a place over here I know you can't reach!"

It was odd, hearing her own voice as though it wasn't coming from her. It sounded different, and it did that even when she wasn't trying to change it. She wondered why that was.

She couldn't see into the bigger cave, but could guess that Vankor would be peering into the cave. He'd see nothing beyond the first dozen feet or so, as the cave was pretty dark.

"So you did some tricks with those lights of yours, right? Went in there, knowing I wouldn't bother to get a torch?"

She waited just a moment before saying significantly, "Maybe."

"Yeah. Well, _maybe_ I'll just wait."

"Maybe _I'll_ just wait till you get bored and sneak out and change places after a while."

"Maybe I'll still wait outside the cave and just throw you into the sea when you come out."

"Maybe up yours, bro." She made the _ghost sound_ sound as sweet as she could.

"Maybe Ma will thrash you herself for language like that."

"Maybe you're the kinda' pansy as'll tell her."

She heard some grumbling and splashing as Vankor crept into the cave. "Oh, that's it. I'ma drag you out by your hair and give you a dunk myself."

"_Ooo_. I gotta get some boots to shake in."

Vankor was saying something else, but Kylina didn't care. She couldn't risk saying anything more in case he'd notice where the sound was coming from, her little tricks notwithstanding. She pushed herself away from the fissure and snuck back towards the mouth of the larger cave. This was the riskiest part. She had to cross the mouth of the cave without her shadow darkening the cave too much and alerting Vankor. It couldn't really be done; the cave wasn't all that big, and if she wanted to keep ground under her feet, she'd have to cross in front of the light. But if she could just get one more distraction to work...

She couldn't hear Vankor moving in the cave, but she hadn't expected to. She pointed a fingertip around the corner and sent the tiniest trace of _dancing lights_ somewhere into the depths of the cave. With some effort, she also conjured a little 'splash' sound somewhere into the cave immediately after. That should distract Vankor just enough – his eyes would be drawn to the sudden light and sound, hopefully missing for an instant the change in the light coming from behind him. Kylina bolted into an awkward, hunched-over sprint across the mouth of the cave.

"_YAAAAAAAARGH!_"

Vankor sprang at her from the cave with a tremendous roar. She shrieked at the top of her lungs and jumped a foot in the air and went sprawling on the ground, heart lodged somewhere in her throat. She flailed wildly as she fell, hitting her head on something but somehow landing on her back and not her face. She stared in blank-faced shock at Vankor, who was howling with laughter. Her breath was coming in shakily, and she was half-crying in terror and half-laughing hysterically.

"Th-that... that wasn't... wasn't funny! N-not... Not funny!"

Vankor's laughter took on a jeering quality.

She tried to throw a pebble at him. She hit her own foot. "Stop laughing!" She cried indignantly.

He finally did, though mostly because he was running out of breath.

Kylina's heart was still hammering. She sniffled and wiped her eyes on her sleeves. Crying when frightened was such a stupid thing. And stupid Vankor was still chuckling.

"That was mean."

He shrugged easily. "Had it coming."

She pouted and looked away. She noticed then that her knee was hurting too. And some other places. The back of her head was throbbing. There was no blood when she touched it with her hand. "It was still mean," she said quietly.

Vankor didn't say anything for a moment. Then she saw him shrug again out of the corner of her eye. "Aight. If you say so."

He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. She wiggled into a better position and rode piggyback back to town. There was silence for a time.

"How did you know I wasn't in the cave?" she asked eventually.

"I know the caves and I know your little tricks," Vankor said.

"But how did you know the words didn't come from deeper in the big cave?"

"You got the sound wrong. It didn't sound... echo-ish, like it should have. And it was too close, like you should've been close enough to see."

Kylina groaned in disappointment. "I thought it was so clever."

"Might've worked on someone else."

"How'm I supposed to find someone thicker than you?" she wondered in a dejected voice.

"I'll drop you," Vankor warned.

"No, you won't," she said, wrapping her arms tighter around his neck. And he didn't.

* * *

><p><strong>30 Arodus, 4703 AR, Sandpoint<strong>

_Scritch scritch scritch _went her mother's quill as she worked at her desk. _Scritch... scratch scratch scratch sigh_ went the sounds of Kylina's own project.

It was a warm day late in Arodus. She was lying on her stomach on the floor of her mother's study, kicking her legs in the air absently. The window to the room was open, letting in a fresh breeze. The smells of parchment, paper, ink, dust, old wood and late summer mingled into a pleasant, peaceful scent, but Kylina wasn't feeling sleepy. Swallowtail's Release was tomorrow, and the mood in the town was lively. Almost everyone was doing their own preparations or helping others with theirs, and that left little time for them to spend with Kylina. Her own preparations had kept her occupied for a time, but she had long since made herself as ready as could be. With no one free to talk to and nothing to read, she had decided to prepare something for a performance of her own. It wouldn't be ready in time for tomorrow, but you didn't need it to be Swallowtail's Release to perform or write.

If only the words would bend a little. Metric poetry was far harder to work with than prose but she agreed with Cyrdak that it lent a certain strength to a narrative when done well. If nothing else, she wouldn't have to work at memorizing something she'd spent so much time on. Cyrdak had agreed to let her be the narrator in his new play tomorrow. She'd had the lines memorized for days – and not just her own, either – and her excitement had been put on hold until the day of the festival. It was to be her first real performance. She'd hoped Shalelu would come see it, but it was starting to look like she wasn't coming to the festival at all this year. The ranger never spent all that much time in town, but she never cut things this close, either...

_Scritch... Scri...tch. _Pause. _Scratch scratch scratch. _"Ugh."

Her mother straightened up and rolled her shoulders with audible _cricks_. "Second-rate paper or not, that ink's not the cheapest thing in the house, miss. I do wish you'd take a bit more care with it."

"Sorry. I know it's not, but these things are so vexing! Even when I get a few lines that go well together and make up a good whole, next thing I'll get so stuck I have to go back and make changes or start again."

Mom smiled. "And a master makes no compromises?"

Kylina pushed the paper to the side and laid her cheek against the cool floor. "Well, I don't want it to be just... you know. Doggerel."

"Gods forbid that thirteen-year-old girls should not produce masterpieces."

Kylina stuck out her tongue. "Not the gods, just little old me."

"However you like it, honey." She stretched her neck again. "And since you're just lying there, how about little old you put a stopper on that inkwell and give big old me a neck rub."

"Work, work." She had barely placed the little pot back in its slot in the desk when the front door creaked open and they heard Bevelek's voice.

"Hey Libs, where you at?"

"You can't have my quack, whatever it is," her mother called.

"I'm here, Bevelek. What is it?"

"I saw Shalelu walk down the street a while back. Thought you might want to know."

Kylina was already at the door. "What, where? Which way was she going?"

Bevelek jerked a thumb vaguely northwards. "I don't know where she was going. Probably the mayor or the sheriff? Isn't that where she..." Kylina didn't even hear him trail off, nor the protests of her mother. She raced full tilt from their house in the direction of the garrison. Some of the townsfolk grumbled about idle kids charging through the streets, while others had better things to do.

When she rounded a corner to the main street, she immediately spotted the tall elf with the tall ponytail, talking with Mayor Deverin, Sheriff Hemlock and Father Zantus just outside the town hall. None of them had noticed her yet so she slowed down to a walk to catch her breath. She found it odd that there was no gaggle of children waiting – or clamoring – nearby. She wondered with mild indignation if she'd been the last to be told. Then again, now she wouldn't have to crowd Shalelu or wait for her turn. She knew Shalelu didn't like being crowded even if she was too polite to actually say it to anyone but the worst offenders, and she herself disliked waiting.

She took the opportunity to stare. Shalelu made a slow, graceful sweep of her arm to indicate something to the north. Watching it made Kylina feel like she was four again, the gesture was so familiar. She knew from observing the other elves in the town that some of them changed their attire and hair styles as often as rich young human girls, whereas others almost never did. Shalelu was the more conservative type, and looked exactly the same today, bow and quiver and leathers and all, as when Kylina had seen her last.

The thought was a dampener. It brought to mind the reason the ranger had been gone for so long. There had been concern about the goblin tribes moving in on weakened prey after the fire only a few months ago, and it was only the second time Shalelu had been back since then. The tribes wouldn't have known of the other unpleasantness that had been going on – Kylina refused to think on that – but the fire couldn't have escaped their notice. And yet, the spring and summer had come and gone without raids. Maybe it was because the goblins wouldn't have heard about what took place before the fire.

Kylina shuddered. It was still too horrible to think about. She had been the one to find the body of Chopper's first victim. Those five weeks had been a nightmare even before the end, when people had started seriously considering that any of their neighbors could be responsible. There had been a lot of fights in the inns and taverns then, scared and grieving people who didn't know what to do drinking themselves insensate and a dozen new theories about who'd done it every day. She had tried to defuse the fights when she could, but almost started one herself when a sodden cooper's boy had tried to blame it all on Shalelu, who'd been away at the time...

And when they'd found out who Chopper really was...

She couldn't remember what she'd thought when she heard. She still couldn't think of Mr Stoot as Chopper. In her mind, Chopper was something that had happened _to_ Mr Stoot, the way he had happened to everyone else in the town. It couldn't have been the same person. What Chopper had done wasn't at all like the kindly, slightly odd old man who had carved a bird on their house.

That day she _did_ remember well.

_She was playing outside when she noticed that Mr Stoot had stopped nearby. He was considering their house. At first it seemed like he was looking at something under the eaves, but then she realized it was the pictures of the cart and quill he was gazing at._

_"Looking to send a letter, Mr Stoot?" she said._

_"Naw. Are yer parents home, lass?"_

_"Yeah, Mom's here. What do you need her for?"_

_"I think there's a bird in there."_

_She followed his eyes again, trying to make sure it wasn't the eaves he was talking about, after all._

_"In the, uh... the corner beam?"_

_Mr Stoot nodded. "Didn't notice it before, but there it is. Holdin' the quill in his beak, see?"_

_Kylina looked._

_...No bird._

_"I don't see anything, sir. Sorry."_

_Mr Stoot seemed to see her there for the first time. "Oh?" He turned back to the house. "Oh. Well, I suppose not. Yet, anyway. I'd need to get him out, of course. Don't know how I never saw him there before, I must've been past here a hunnerd times. Must've hatched only recently, I'm thinkin'. Could you fetch your mother for me, lass?"_

She had done so, and Mom had given permission, and they'd had a real Stoot decorating their home. Like the old carpenter had said, the finished piece had been a young chick, his down still fluffy and crude, holding in his beak the quill that marked the house as the residence of a scribe. It had been so beautiful Kylina had wheedled her parents into hiring a painter to give color to the whole. When she'd told Mr Stoot, the old man had come to see and smiled in approval.

And then had come the time of Chopper, and once people found out who he was, the townsfolk had grabbed their axes and chisels and hacked off the birds decorating their homes. Kylina had almost done it to theirs. She remembered standing tiptoe on the rainwater cask at the corner of their house, chisel and hammer in hand. She had been crying.

She'd _liked_ Mr Stoot. He'd been like a real artist; someone who saw hidden, beautiful things in places no one else did and brought them out. It didn't matter that he lived apart from everyone else and wasn't good at talking to people. It was a tenet of Shelyn to respect beauty and effort, and Jervis Stoot had had both. She couldn't believe he'd always been mad – something must have happened to him. And now everyone was destroying all his life's work.

She hadn't had the heart to do it. She had climbed down and asked her family to leave the little chick be. They had agreed for her sake, or at least said so.

She had found the carving chopped up three days later. She had never tried to find out who did it. She didn't want to know. And now there were no Stoots left in Sandpoint, nothing to remember a great artist by.

By then Kylina was still some twenty paces from the trio. Even with her back to her, Shalelu was the first to notice her approach. One of her long, sharp ears gave a little twitch and she looked at Kylina over her shoulder. The sight dispelled her gloomy mood. Kylina brushed the dust off her dress briskly and closed the remaining distance at a jog.

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><p><strong>7 Rova, 4707 AR, Sandpoint<strong>

"What's wrong, girl?"

"I'm fine." The lie was transparent. Kylina wanted to be alone, not to deceive her, but Kwen wouldn't have it.

"The same kind of 'fine' you've been for the past week?"

Kylina said nothing.

Kwen said nothing.

"Look, I don't... It's stupid, and I know it's stupid, and I don't want to talk about it. All right?"

"No, it's not all right. You haven't sulked this long in your life. Something's wrong, and it's giving me grey hairs that you won't tell me what."

There was a silence. She could see Kylina was trying not to cry, and it smote her heart.

"I should have gone with them," her daughter said to the wall. "The out-of-towners. Those who went after the goblins."

"What?" Kwen sputtered, and Kylina grimaced. She struggled to fend off alarm. "Those five? They were―that was a _war party_, girl, they were going to _battle_! What in Desna's graces do you imagine you had to go with them for? You're not a fighter, what could you have done?"

It was the wrong thing to say. "I know, all right? I get it," Kylina hissed. "I told you it was stupid. But I shouldn't have to be so useless, should I? What would've happened if those five hadn't been here, huh? Who would've gone to strike at those damn goblins then? Shalelu, alone? No one? Because we weren't exactly _rolling in volunteers_ when the sheriff put out the call for warriors!"

Kwen was speechless. She tried to untangle what she'd just heard. "So... It's not about you not going, but... that you want to be a, a warrior?" Her voice was neutral. She made it be. "Or that you feel the town's not safe, that we can't defend ourselves?"

"Well, we can't, can we?" Kylina retorted. "What would we have done if, if there hadn't just been vicious dwarves visiting, or Shoanti tribesmen with big swords or druids with war-trained wolves, if it'd just been us, or the attack had come like, three days later when everyone was gone? What then?"

"Then we would have let our _own_ Shoanti with big swords handle it, along with the militia," Kwen said evenly. "_Yes_, we were lucky that they were here and _yes_, the body count would have been higher if they hadn't, but it wouldn't have been the end of the town."

"Do try to moderate that reassurance, Mom."

Kwen let that go. "Look... Being concerned for the town doesn't make you stupid, Kylina. But why do you think that _you_ have to―"

She stopped. A thought had occurred to her just then. Kylina was looking at her oddly, and she strove for a blank expression. She noticed that although her voice had remained more or less even, Kylina had lost her battle against the tears.

"This isn't about impressing that Shalelu girl, is it? If it is..."

Kylina made a sharp gesture. "Don't."

From the set of Kylina's jaw Kwen knew that if her daughter hadn't been angry at her personally before, she was now. Well, an improvement nevertheless.

"First off, it's none of your―no, you know what? I'll play. Even if that were the reason and the only reason at that, so what? What does it matter what excuse we use so long as it gets us where we need to be? What bloody sense does it make that a few dozen of those ridiculous waist-high midgets should be able to scatter several hundred grown-up humans, elves and dwarves like so many chickens? None, that's what! It's a gods-damned disgrace! Bad enough that we're all the kind of lackwits that stayed to live in a town built on cursed ground, but that we're also weak enough to be sent screaming by a bunch of _goblins_?"

Kwen let her vent. "The purported _curse_ isn't nearly as bad as the general society around the shadier parts of Magnimar, and you can tell anyone I said that. And in case you didn't hear," she pointed out, "every goblin that tried to force its way into a house either failed at the door or got killed for its trouble. That was why they stuck to the streets and tried to burn the buildings. This is a frontier town and we all know it. Those people would have been running for their own strongholds and their own weapons. Like your father was. Like your brothers were."

There was a long, drawn-out quiet, during which the fire seemed to leave Kylina.

"Well, I wasn't," she said miserably. "I froze like an idiot. I didn't even make it home before it was all over."

Kwen didn't say what it had been like, those few, endless minutes while Kylina had been missing. Instead, she said, "I heard you saved Bemwi's little boy."

"That was just dumb luck! I just screamed at the goblin and it stopped long enough for the sheriff to kill it!"

A hint of steel creeping into her voice, Kwen said, "It might seem like a fluke, stupid and pathetic and not worth doing to you, but that little child owes his _life_ to you. And his mother might have given you a word or two of thanks, from what I've heard." Which was the understatement of the year. Kwen doubted Bemwi had been serious about the statue, but certainly the halfling had spared no volume of voice in her praises.

It seemed to reach something in Kylina, too. She wiped her face on her sleeve.

"It's not enough, though. It could happen again, and I don't just want to be a line in someone else's paean."

"Then be the one who writes the paean. You're good with those, aren't you?"

Kylina's cheek twitched. "Thanks for the impartial input, _Mom,_ but that's not good enough. It's a useless skill in a fight and fights have a way of turning up here."

Kwen shook her head. " I don't understand this burning sense of duty to be able to go toe-to-toe with goblin hordes on your own. If you're going to pretend you're alone in the world, why don't you learn to track and hunt and build your own house and make your own clothes while you're at it?"

There was a pause. Kylina's expression grew abstracted.

"I, uh... I never thought of it that way."

"Obviously."

"I do still want to learn _something_, though," Kylina said after a moment.

"If you need those kind of skills to feel some self-worth, girl, then go learn. Were you waiting for an invitation or what?"

"No, I wasn't waiting for an invitation. I've already tried asking around, and they've all said much the same thing: I'm not strong enough or quick enough to wear proper armor or use a sword or bow..."

There was a pause. Kwen pinched the bridge of her nose. "Weapons and armor? Honestly, girl, you worked yourself up into this whole frenzy and it somehow slipped your mind that you've been tossing around _spells_ since you were _six?_"

That got her attention. "Well, no, but I never thought of them as weapons... I can't do anything offensive." But she was considering it.

"Then _learn_. Better that than have you running around, thinking yourself a swordsman. There's bound to be some old, bored sorcerer or other in town who can tell you how that stuff works."

It didn't take long for Kylina to make the decision. When she smiled, Kwen knew she was back to her usual self. Kylina crossed the room to her and wrapped her in a hug.

"Thanks, Mom. You helped."

Kwen hugged her back. "It's what I do." But inside, she was silently praying to both Desna and Shelyn that she hadn't nudged her daughter down the wrong path.

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><p>4711, AR, Sandpoint<p>

The "what" was "a caravan."

The "where" was "away."

The "who" would sort itself out soon enough.

The "when" was "as soon as possible, a couple of months, tops."

The "why" no one gave a whiff about.

But the "how"... Ah, now _that_ had been the question.

Planning such a trip across a continent might have seemed like a difficult thing. All that planning. All the things that couldn't be planned for. The logistics of harsh terrain, unknown terrain and uncountable miles. The returns expected from trading in towns no one could tell them anything about, and relying on those returns for the supplies necessary to keep going. And monsters. You could only place a foot in front of the other so many times in this world before you ran into a monster.

It was a tricky affair. Complicated business.

Sandru sat rocking on the back legs of his chair, his legs propped up on a table, watching with some amusement and some _be_musement as Kylina Mirashnes made all his problems go away.

The girl had found him not one day after Sandru had first opened his mouth about how tired he was of having to deal with the same scenery year after year and hinted at his plans for an extended trip to the north and east. Not that he had any strong objections to her coming along, as she seemed capable enough. It was simply somewhat abrupt, the way she had shown up at his doorstep with a satchel full of scrolls and documents and an "I've got some ideas where to start!" for a hello. Her ideas hadn't yet turned out superior to his own experience, but she had brought with her better maps and could tell him things he didn't know about some of the regions outside his previous routes.

Right now she was engrossed in the world of balancing wages and consumption rates with cargo capacity. Half an hour earlier she had established a set of remarkably accurate rules of thumb for estimating the minimum distances different kinds of trade commodities would have to be transported from their point of origin for them to become valuable enough to sell at an acceptable margin. It was the sort of knowledge an experienced caravaner would come to possess intuitively after years in the trade, and Sandru didn't quite know what to think of her having managed to formalize the whole process from scratch in a single day between breakfast and lunch. For some inexplicable reason the girl seemed to be nourished by the very same thing that would have made most prospective adventurers invoke the names of their deities and go back to the dirt-grubbing business. For the moment, Sandru was content to rock in his chair and see where these strange tides were taking him.

Kylina was frowning at a paper filled from edge to edge with columns of figures scrawled in characters small enough to pass for the hand of a particularly dextrous spider, shooting a glance at a map of Varisia spread on the table every now and then.

"How often can we expect to visit settlements that can trade with us? Is all Varisia in the market, and what about beyond?" she asked.

Sandru leaned forward and the other two legs of his chair hit the floor with a dull _cluck_. "Can't really say beyond where my maps end, but all of these settlements," Sandru trailed a finger across a string of dots on the map, "should be both willing and prosperous enough to trade. We can assume a pace of thirty miles a day – which estimate is plenty cautious enough – and plan accordingly. It gets iffy once we leave Varisia, though. Thanks to the Sczarni and certain other idiots," Sandru said with disgust, "Varisians aren't too highly thought of by our neighbors. We may be turned down now and then – denied entrance inside a town's walls or such. And we can't really make plans about the Lands of the Linnorm Kings, as the tribes that way move around. There will be a few permanent settlements, and that's it. And of course we've precious little picture of what's beyond the edge of these charts. We'll get new maps as we go along, of course, but that's then."

Her mouth twisted. "So the only plan goes only as far as the first leg of the trip?"

"Getting second thoughts?" he asked slyly.

"Getting high?" Kylina asked back innocently.

Sandru guffawed. "Oh, aye. High on the high adventure. But I'll tell you this much: there really isn't much need to plan the journey further than the northern border of Varisia – yet. By then we'll pick up more up-to-date news on the lands beyond that point, and we'll make those plans then."

"As you say, boss." Kylina resumed staring at her notes. "That doesn't mean we can't maximize our profits up to that point, though. It won't hurt to have some extra coin in the bag when the leaner legs of the trip come round, no?"

Sandru shrugged in concession. "True enough. All right. But as for what comes _after_, what you can do _now_―"

He was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Come in."

The young, gangly man who walked in wore the badge of the Magnimarian Haulers' Guild. Kylina's family did most of the hauling between Magnimar and Sandpoint and they stuck to a steady schedule, so the only time the guild sent an envoy of their own was for special deliveries. Special orders like the one Sandru couldn't remember placing. Which meant that whatever the man was there to deliver, it was bound to be interesting.

Briefly, he noted that Kylina wasn't jumping at the chance to talk to the new guy. He almost laughed. The girl didn't hand out her attentions by halves, that was for sure. All she now gave this never-been-seen-before out-of-towner was an absent-minded "G'day."

The man cleared his throat and bobbed a curt bow. "Good day, miss, sir. I was told I might find the caravan organizer here. Have I come to the right place?"

"Yeah, that's kind of what we're about, as you can see," Kylina said, gesturing at the desk.

The Hauler appeared to notice the large table with the huge map with the colorful lines drawn on it for the first time. A cynical part of Sandru wondered if that was feigned, or if the man was really that well trained not to notice anything. And the lad was just a bit too well-spoken to be convincing. Either way, such behavior in a delivery boy was enough to leave Sandru with a sinking feeling. One more set of vaguely threatening insinuations from his brother's _colleagues_ and Sandru didn't know what he would do.

The envoy was regarding Kylina doubtfully. "So... Are you the one in charge of the caravan, miss? The parcel I carry is to be delivered to the organizer―"

Kylina smiled and waved a dismissive hand, not looking up from the paper. "Oh, I'm not in charge. I'm just being helpful."

"Right." His eyes flicked to Sandru, who took a moment out of his misgivings to come to the man's rescue. He stood up.

"Well, you heard the lady. Seems like I'm still 'in charge,' whatever that means these days. Who's this package from, then?"

"I couldn't say, sir." The messenger drew forth a parcel, tightly wrapped in paper, bound with string and sealed with wax, and proffered it to him.

_But of course._ The seal bore no symbol and the parcel itself had no writing on it. Unmarked deliveries at the outset of new ventures had Sczarni written all over them. Half of Sandpoint wouldn't even have heard yet, and there they were, slithering their way into prospective correspondence with Sandru to share in his concerns... Thoughtful fellows, were the Sczarni.

"Do I owe you something for the delivery?" he asked the man.

"All paid for by the sender, sir."

"Lovely. Thank you."

The Hauler took his leave. Sandru hadn't yet decided what to do with it when Kylina said, "So, going to open that or what?" In spite of her noncommittal airs she had been keeping an ear open.

He made a decision, tossing the packet on his chair casually. "Sure, but it can wait. I was about to tell you that there was something you could do to help me with."

"Oh?" Kylina perked up. Bless the girl, but she was easy to distract.

"Aye. I wouldn't mind getting hold of some word lists for a few of the languages spoken outside Varisia. Common will do fine most of the time, but a few scrolls with the basics of some of the northern and eastern tongues would be good. So I'd like you to go see Mr Haladan and negotiate some discounts for me, if you can. Word lists will do, but a grammar or a couple of scrolls of _comprehend languages_ would serve, as well."

"Ooh! That's a good idea!" Kylina said, packing her writing implements away swiftly. "I've been meaning to ask him about a few other things, too. Consider it done."

"Thanks a bunch, Kylina. Now I know old Chask well enough that I know he won't let go of his collectibles easily, but do try not to go too much over the proper price, you understand?"

She just smiled. "Oh, sure, sure, don't worry. Mr Haladan and I get along like a house on fire, and I have the prettiest please in town. I'll find a way."

Sandru laughed. "All right. See you later."

"See you!"

And so saying, she was gone. She'd only taken her satchel with her, leaving behind all the documents she'd brought with her. A sweet young woman, but too trusting. Sandru hoped she wouldn't come to too much trouble because of it.

His eyes lighted on the parcel. Time to see what the Varisian organized crime had to say to him.

* * *

><p>4711 AR, Sandpoint<p>

Sandru's plans were coming to fruition. Resources had been pooled, plans finalized, the crew roster settled, and a few generous townsfolk had chipped in. The caravan was ready to leave and would do so in only a few more days. It was the talk of the whole village.

It was also the talk of the Mirashnes-Carter household. It was a busy season and Gahm was away even more than usual. He'd said he would be back to see the kids off, but in the meantime it was up to Kwen to drill some crucial sense into those of her children with skulls thin enough to penetrate.

"Keep an eye on your sister," she was saying to her sons. "That girl will run eyes shining at anything new, and I'll need you two to keep a steady head and tell her no, if no one else will."

"We know, Ma," Bevelek said.

"She can handle herself, if need be," Vankor said. "I seen her do it enough times in Magnimar. Besides, most folk wouldn't hurt her if you paid 'em."

Kwen looked at him sharply. "I'm not worried about 'most folk.' She thinks she can handle herself, and will tell all and sundry she can, but she will attract unnecessary trouble if you let her. You remember what I told you she said after that goblin attack? She might say all she wants is to see the world, but I don't trust her not to start playing hero if given the chance. And so help us if she sees that Shalelu doing anything dangerous..." She shook her head. "So _you look out_ for your little big sister and see she doesn't come to harm. Is that clear?"

"Sure," and "Yes, Ma," said Vankor and Bevelek.

"Good. Now Bevelek, is everything properly settled between you and Yuda?"

Bevelek felt a touch impatient. It was old ground, nothing new to report. "Yes, Ma. We'll marry once I get back. Sandru pays a fair wage and we don't need to cover the maintenance of the wagons. I'll have enough to buy the house after the trip."

Some more time was spent in assuring their mother that all her children would not suddenly burst into flames as soon as they left the town. Later, once Mother had satisfied her need to mother them, the brothers were left alone. They were in the storage shed, making sure their long-trip gear was in passable shape.

Vankor asked his brother, "D'you really think she'll need us ta look out for her, tell her what's dangerous and what not?"

Bevelek didn't answer immediately. "No, not really," he said slowly. "I think she knows what she can and can't do. I'd say she's neither brave enough or stupid enough to be the first into any fight. I think she'll have enough sense to leave that to more experienced folks, like Ameiko, Sandru and Shalelu."

Vankor suddenly laughed. "Oh, man. I wouldn't'a even needed any other reason ta sign on for this trip! I'm gonna be laughing my ass off all the way outta Varisia, just seeing Libs make 'em glassy doe-eyes at the elf." He hooted at the thought.

"Some jokes don't get old, eh, Vanker?" Bevelek smiled.

"Damn straight they don't," Vankor agreed, grinning. "And I'll finally have me some real payback for years and years of her flapping her gums at me. It'll be like the Seven Heavens in a couple of little wagons, you'll see!"

"You'd do the gods of evil themselves proud with your sense of humor, you would." After a moment, Bevelek continued, more seriously, "That got me thinking, though. I said I didn't think Kylina would get herself into any real danger, but then I thought: she might after all, if she thinks she needs to be throwing herself between Shalelu and any dragons."

"Eh. Got a point there," Vankor admitted.

There was a brief, troubled silence, during which Vankor's brows slowly bunched up tighter and tighter.

"She can't possibly be that stupid, can she?" he burst out. "Are we _really_ gonna have ta start babysitting her _now_, just because _for once in her life_ she'll actually have _real_ fighters along for the ride?"

"I don't know. But I hope not," Bevelek said. "Might be best to just do as Ma said. Keep an eye out, maybe step in if needs be."

"Bah... I already know how this will turn out," Vankor groused. "Us two getting killed trying to save someone incompetent trying to save someone competent."

"You're an endless bundle of good cheer, you are."

The banter went on, preparations were finished, and the day of departure came.

* * *

><p><strong>Spring 4711 AR, Sandpoint<strong>

The moss-covered stone walls of the town of Sandpoint were a welcome sight, even if they were only a slightly lighter blur than the impenetrable murk of the forest.

It was pouring rain and the road was a mess of mud and puddles. The going was too laborious for his mount to carry him, and had been for quite some time, so they were both plodding along with equal gloomy determination. Karon did have the advantage of a sturdy raincoat, and the mixed blessing of a downpour so hard the one thing he didn't have to worry about was that the wind should blow it inside his clothes.

Still... He was here now.

_It's been a while. _

"Who goes there!" He was hailed at the gate by a voice he didn't recognize. Some lad who had only gotten old enough to be entrusted with solitary watches sometime during these past three years, no doubt. Not someone Karon would have known that well from before, most like.

"Karon Vhiski, back from Fort Rannick," he called back.

"Be right down!"

The gatekeeper didn't keep him waiting. A few moments later the massive wooden gates were pushed open – with hardly a sound from the hinges, Karon noted. Those things used to be a veritable one-instrument symphony of tortured groaning and rusty iron. Word had come his way that the town's defenses were being seen to with somewhat more care than before. Apparently there were still some grains of truth left to go around in the old rumor mill.

"Hi, Karon! Long time no see." A red-haired human boy grinned at him from under a helmet that didn't seem in the least ill-fitted for that head.

Even from up close Karon couldn't actually recognize the young man, but from his age and that hair he could guess. He used to have a drinking buddy not much different from this one.

"Long time, yes. Xim, isn't it?" The youth nodded and pulled the gate closed after him. "How's the clan? Shenk still holding up the walls back home?"

"Nah. Got married, as it happens." Xim seemed to find that amusing.

Karon raised an eyebrow. "He did? To who?"

"I don't want to say. You'll want to see it for yourself anyhow."

That sounded promising. "I will at that."

His horse snorted some water in his face. _Ah, yes. Plenty of time later._

"Say, they haven't moved the garrison around, have they? I need a place for this here sweetheart."

"Nope, still there and intact. See you around." Young Xim saluted him before climbing back up on the wall.

Karon had the streets all to himself, river-like as they were. Occasionally he caught a flicker of golden light somewhere in the town when the sheets of rain parted momentarily, but most windows were dark and empty. The roar of the rain covered even the clopping of his horse's hooves.

The door to the garrison was open when Karon passed it. Someone was rocking back on a chair in the doorway, a blurry figure masked by a curtain of water running down the eaves. Karon raised his hand but wasn't answered. Maybe whoever it was was sleeping, or maybe it was simply too dark out. No matter. He knew where the stables lay.

Karon shouldering his way past a set of swinging doors roused some of the horses inside the stables, and one horse giving the walls of its stall a solid kick roused the stablehand. A young lass with a mop of straw for a head of hair blinked blearily at him from a bunk in the corner, shielding her eyes against the mighty glare of the single candle stuck in its sconce by her bed. She left the warmth of her covers with obvious reluctance.

"See t' sir's horse, sir?" She mumbled, already reaching for the reins.

"That's the task. Sorry to turn up at such an hour."

The girl grumbled something in reply that just might have been language. Karon grabbed the saddlebag containing his meager possessions and, more importantly, a dry set of clothes. He tossed a couple of coppers on her bunk.

"..nk you, sir."

"Good night, lass."

Outside the stables the rain wasn't letting up. Karon rolled his shoulders.

_Doesn't matter. Soon I'll be dry and asleep._

"Hello, son."

_No..._

It was sheriff Hemlock's voice greeting him from the darkness. Neither of them had a lantern and voice was all Karon had to go by, but the sheriff wasn't one who had grown up to be unrecognizable in the past few years.

"Good evening, sheriff. How have you been?"

There was a brief exchange of courtesies and polite enquiries. Thankfully the sheriff seemed to pick up on Karon's weariness.

"Hey, I don't mean to keep you if you'd rather go sleep, but you might want to drop by the Rusty Dragon. Might be some people left in there who want to see you."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, they had something or other planned, or so I heard. Don't know how much of that's still on the cards, what with all this delay this storm's brought on for you, but you might still want to check in."

_Yeah, sure. Might as well. What's ten more minutes at this point?_ "All right, all right... I'm not going to get much wetter, anyways."

The sheriff nodded and clapped him on the arm. "And if you see your brother, tell him he owes me money."

Karon didn't need to specify which one. Jubrayl owned had money to everyone but the most careful folk for the past thirty years. Karon walked off into the murk and the sheriff resumed his own post.

lIlIl

The sounds of merrymaking from the inn were the first thing in a while to carry over the continuous crash of rain. A clogged gutter and a dip in the road level had left a small pond outside the inn's front door. Karon didn't notice himself getting any wetter for sloshing through it.

Inside it was blessedly warm. The folk seemed as merry close up as they had sounded from the street, filling the dining room with a congenial roar that immediately began sinking in and smoothing out Karon's weariness. It was good to see familiar faces.

A good-sized crowd was gathered around the large, round table in the middle of the room, laughing, stomping their feet, banging their pints on the wood and singing in at least three different keys as a breathless-looking gnome and a local girl spun hand-in-hand around each other in the middle of the table. The girl – Kylina, he noticed – held her kapenia in her other hand, trailing it behind her like a banner.

His entry, which had gone unnoticed in the commotion up till then, was now noted. Kylina caught his eye and raised her hands to her face in dismay. The gnome – was that _Krikwihi_? – went flying.

"Oh no! It's a paladin! _The law has found us!_ Quick, quick, hide the liquor!"

At her words the clientele of the Rusty Dragon – not quite sober enough to act in concert – made a great show and dance of slipping their bottles behind their backs, emptying their glasses (and sending themselves into coughing fits) and trying to keep a straight face throughout. It was quite chaotic, and quite ridiculous.

It was also exactly the kind of thing they'd get up to.

Karon noticed that Ameiko was eyeing him from across the room and decided to play along. After the folk were done with their charade, for a moment the only sound was Karon's boots clunking on the floor and the odd titter as he made his way to the counter.

The Tian woman nodded at Karon respectfully. Unlike most other, her expression did remain absolutely level.

"Good evening, Karon. It's good to see you once more."

"Thanks." _So help me the gods, I'm not doing this mummer's farce without a stiff one. _"So, do you still serve drinks around here or what?"

Ameiko poured and handed him a glass full of clear liquid. Karon took a sniff. He'd been tasting this particular drink for some hours, now.

"The Rusty Dragon's brews sure have watered down in my absence. Is this what you serve your customers now?" He held up the glass for the crowd to inspect like a particularly incriminating piece of evidence. There were some guffaws from the audience.

Ameiko shook her head very sorrowfully. "I'm sorry, my boy, but you're a _paladin_ now. Can't have you falling into any vices or I'm gonna have all the clergy of Abadar tromping through here in no time."

"Vices, is it?" Karon swept a glance across the room. A great many faces grinned back. Kylina was pushing her way through the audience.

Ameiko nodded solemnly. "Afraid so, my boy. This is all I dare give you from now on."

_You're enjoying this too much, woman._ "You shouldn't even try to be funny, Ameiko. You'll leave a man in tears if you do."

Just then an arm slammed him in the back with as much force as a scrawny Varisian girl could muster. "Well!" Kylina cried. "I, for one, will consider it a grave, _personal_ failure if I don't have you crawling out of here on all fours come cock's-crow tomorrow morning!"

At that the room erupted into cheers and the coming-home party resumed its previous vigor. Ameiko made Karon go through the motions of making someone else get his drinks for him for the rest of the night.


End file.
